


Once Upon a Festember

by Ataraxian



Category: Anastasia (1997), Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Anastasia!Cassian, Cassian is pure and homeless, Cassian likes fencing, Dmitri!Jyn, F/M, I watched the movie while writing this, Jyn Smokes, Jyn is a criminal, Jyn's Got Style, K-2SO is a decorated veteran, Maybe I'll write it the other way, Modern AU, Mrs Andor, Not really a Rasputin either, Probably Yesterday in a Galaxy Nearby, Smoking isn't sexy, The Royal House of Andor, Then there may be a plot, There's no cute puppy in this one, don't do it kids, feels without plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 05:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13240947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ataraxian/pseuds/Ataraxian
Summary: “There was a girl… a girl who worked in the palace. She opened a wall…? I’m sorry. That’s crazy, walls opening…”Jyn had already turned her back to the group to stare out the window, or they might have seen her tears.





	Once Upon a Festember

**Author's Note:**

> For my love Katie, who bullied me into writing this, and for Google, because you let me keep it sitting in my Google Drive for a year so I could forget about it and edit it myself. This is the first fic I've ever finished.
> 
> If you read it, a comment would be lovely!
> 
> To all the JynCassian fics I stalk... sweet Fanged god, I am in awe of you all.

“It's not good enough,” she pronounces, to the protesting of the man in front of her.

“You're not even watching!” he complains, and Jyn raises an eyebrow. Her gaze is focused only on the compact mirror in front of her as she touches up her lipstick. “I don't need to,” she says coolly, not even giving him the decency of a glare. “Your accent is abysmal, you can't keep your wig on straight, and you wouldn't know what class was if it hit you in the face. I'm trying to pull off the biggest con in history, not make myself the biggest joke in Fest. Get out of my palace,” she orders just as airily, and the ice in her voice is enough to chill the stoic man beside her to the bone. “Send in the next on your way out.”

The man protests again, and he is found that evening in a dumpster on the other side of the city, far away from the abandoned holiday palace that Jyn considered her domain, with lipstick on the collar of his shirt.

Police say he jumped to his death.

* * *

He was a ragged thing, breaking into a place that didn’t belong to him. Hiding.

“You. Boy.” _Click_. A brief flash of flame illuminated her face, before it was obscured again by smoke. “What are you doing here?”

There was a scramble as he tried to run, and if Jyn were more desperate, a lesser woman, one who hadn’t worn Louboutins to work that day (never mind that they weren’t real and the red felt was peeling) she would have run after him; as it was, Retired Royal Captain Kaytu Esso was already well on his way to finishing the job by the time she finished the second drag of her cigarette.

A man was lifted up into the air, terror written all over his face. Jyn couldn’t blame him. Kay was monstrously tall.

“State your purpose, interloper.”

 _And terrible at human relations._ She grinned. “Put him down, Kay. You, come here.”

The man walks forward. He’s incredibly malnourished, but still taller than her. There’s the barest shadow of scruff on his face, but not much more. No wonder she thought he was younger. Then he opens his mouth and says something unexpected.

“You must be Jyn.”

“Must I?” Her eyes burn: with retribution, with curiosity? Who knows? It all depends on his answer.

“I’m Cassian. I need papers to get into the royal city. I asked around, all I heard was your name. You’re the woman who makes things happen.”

She ashed her cigarette, amused, and looked over her shoulder at Kay. He had come to a parade rest just over this _Cassian_ ’s shoulder. Her smile brightened to undeniably smug. “Hear that, Kay? I’m important.”

“By my last count, you have successfully smuggled ninety six percent of clients this month and you're at the top of no less than five government watch lists. I agree with this consensus.”

She ignored him. “You. Kid. Cassian. You said something about papers?”

“Yes,” he said impatiently, shifting from foot to foot. “I need an identity. A _legitimate_ one. And passage.”

“What’s your last name?”

“I don’t know.” _Odd,_ she thinks.

“Parents’ names? Anything?”

“No and no.”

“Convenient.”

“Look, all I know is that the last thing my parents ever gave me was a postcard they tucked into my pocket when the orphanage found me.” He pulled a worn piece of paper out of his pocket and held it out for her to examine.

She plucked it delicately out of his hands with two fingers and examined it closely. The lettering on one side said ‘Live Right in the Royal City,’ and on the other side was scribbled, “My Cassian, you will always be my heart.”

Cassian’s accented voice thickens with frustration as it rings through the empty old palace. “Look. Can you help me or not? I wasted a lot of time to get here—”

Kay suddenly inhales sharply. Surprised, Cassian cuts off and turns to look quizzically up at him.

“You sound like a boy I used to know.”

When he turns back around, Cassian jumps. Jyn was very close, staring intently. “Looks like him, too,” she mutters, and shoots Kay an unreadable glance. He nods.

Her voice is curious. She begins moving, circling very closely around him. Examining. “Have you heard the tale of the lost prince of Fest?”

“That Andor kid who disappeared?”

“Prince Jeron Cassian. I know Cassian is a fairly common name in the kingdom, you're not the first I’ve met…”

“... but you're the first we’ve met to convincingly look the part,” Kay finishes.

“What does that have to do with papers?”

“I've got papers for the Prince.”

“But I'm not—”

“It doesn't matter,” she cuts him off. “Maybe you are, maybe you aren't. Why don't we take a trip to the Royal City and see?”

* * *

They arrive at the airport as the gates are closing. “This is your fault,” Cassian accuses her, sitting on her luggage outside the terminal as they tried to find another flight. “We wouldn't have been so late if you weren't so hungover.”

 

“Shut up,” she growls, wincing beneath stolen Ray-Bans as the pounding in her head worsens. “You're just as hungover.” 

 

“But I didn't spend two hours trying to put on makeup and taking up the hotel bathroom.”

 

“You were looking for your shoes!” 

 

“Because they were in the bathroom!”

 

“If you children are done bickering,” Kay says coolly, “I've booked us on a private plane that boards in five minutes. Move along, now.”

 

And that was that.   
  


* * *

 

The private plane to the port harbor unexpectedly runs out of fuel and goes down in a fiery blaze as Jyn, Kay, and Cassian watch from the relative safety of the emergency float, which had deployed once the plane got close enough to the ground. It didn't affect their travel time much, except that they had to take a bus to their arrival point at the airport. It would have been a lot worse, but Cassian’s quick thinking and textbook knowledge of aviation had saved their lives. Jyn was still relatively hostile, but she had to concede that Cassian wasn't as useless as he looked. 

 

“On the bright side,” Cassian amends, cheery but solemn, “at least our luggage is checked on the flight we missed.” 

 

Jyn makes a noise in the back of her throat. She seems to have choked on the words in her mouth. Eventually, she manages a soft, “Thank you.”

 

On the bus ride to the airport, Jyn quizzes him on the Andor court. He nails every question. On the last question about some far-flung uncle and his eccentric familiars, she doesn't hear him whisper, “I miss that cat.”

 

* * *

 

In the hotel room before the flight, Cassian had gotten the chance to shower, but it wasn't until they reached the port AirBnB that he could really clean up. They were to remain in the port until both Jyn and Kay felt that Cassian was ready to see the Queen, as Kay had gotten word that she was presently out of town. Instead of chasing her down, Jyn decided, they would wait. While waiting in Royal City would cause too much of a stir, nobody would look too hard at him  _ here _ . 

 

While Kay was preparing his contacts, Jyn herself took Cassian shopping, as he didn't have anything even remotely clean. It was nice, seeing him dress more professionally, and he took a great liking to the more streamlined, minimalist look she favored herself. 

 

As they walked out of the last shop, she turned to head the few blocks back to their apartment. “We need to teach you some of the finer skills now, I think,” she announces clinically, hands shoved in pockets, scarf wrapped tightly around her neck. “Do you know anything about fencing, riding, or dancing?” 

 

“I'm good with animals,” he says, “and there were horses sometimes at the orphanage. I can stay seated on a horse.” 

 

“Wonderful,” she says pleasantly. “Just the fencing and dancing, then.”

 

“People don't really use swords anymore,” he points out. 

 

“No, but it is something taught to every prince of the Andor line,” she breezes. “You don't need to be a master, but the prince disappeared when he was eight. An eight year old would know how to hold a sword. And the ceremonial dances.”

 

He frowns. “I won't get that far, though, will I? If I'm not really him?”

 

“If you're not, no,” she lied easily. “If you are, then you need to be believable.”

 

He seems satisfied as she leads them up to the room. Later that night, they begin lessons. 

 

* * *

 

They get the call sooner than expected. Cassian is holding his own in a sparring match, one hand behind his back, and Jyn herself is focusing so hard she doesn't notice the hole she's chewing in her lip. Kay has been surveying them both, giving Cassian helpful advice and chastising Jyn if she makes the smallest mistake. Her eyes are narrowed in frustration at Kay, but Cassian is getting the brunt of her exasperation. He’s sweating in a black tank top, and she's really regretting the shirt she’s wearing but she can't exactly take it off in the middle of a fight. 

 

His face is lit up, enjoying the challenge, enjoying how  _ good _ he seems to be at this. As the fight progresses, Jyn’s frustration transfers slowly to him, bit by bit. “How are you enjoying this?” she asks him incredulously, and his response is just as incredulous. 

 

“How are you not?” 

 

“I'm not right-handed,” she fires back, and it would have been a complaint if it hadn't been loaded with fury. 

 

“What, you don't like challenges?” 

 

“I don't like losing!” 

 

In two moves, he’s got her. “Don't worry,” he says as her rapier clatters to the ground, hair falling over his face as he leans forward to help her up. He’s being cheeky. “You'll always be a winner to me.”

 

She's about to jump on him to strangle him to death when Kay’s phone starts ringing. 

 

“Pack your backs,” he says when he hangs up, as Jyn’s chest is still heaving. “We’re on the next boat.”

 

* * *

 

It's only a couple hours later, well into the start of their night at sea, when Kay brings them out onto the deck. 

 

The men are both in formal suits with epaulettes in the royal style; Cassian because he had to get used to it, and Kay because that's pretty much all he owned. 

 

Kay looked at her, frowning, and says, “Why are you wearing a leather jacket? These are royal dancing lessons. Go change.”

 

With a sigh, Jyn went back down to her room. She came back up in and an approximation of a court dress, as close as she could manage at the time. She curtsies sarcastically at Kay. “Is this better, your highness?” 

 

“Much,” was the warm reply from, not the guard captain, but Cassian himself, looking very princely standing next to the rail with one hand in his jacket pocket. They lock eyes. 

 

Kay coughs uncomfortably and the moment was broken, the thread they'd carefully untangled pulled so hard it snapped. 

 

“Places,” he drawls, and the two snapped to action, rushing and fumbling. They still again directly in front of each other, doggedly avoiding each other’s eyes. 

 

Kay’s tone was clipped. “Do you know how to waltz, Cassian?”

 

“... No.”

 

Jyn lifts her eyes heavenward. “Let me show you,” she says, picking up his hands. “Put these here…” She laces her fingers through his left hand and places his right on her waist, patting it so it stayed. “And I put mine here.” She rests her hand on his shoulder and lifts their entwined fingers, setting her shoulders back and her hips forward. 

 

“You just step. Like this.” 

 

Kay starts counting and Jyn begins the steps, taking them carefully. She is too aware of every brush of skin and hair and twitch of muscle, and he almost steps on her toes a number of times. 

 

“Stop! Stop, stop. Jyn, let Cassian lead. Cassian, you’re dancing, not disarming a bomb.  Again!”

 

Cassian was uncomfortable, she could tell. Jyn leans forward, cheekbone level with his jaw, and spoke quietly into his ear. “Relax,” she breathes, and it pours over him like a wave. 

 

She presses closer, squeezing his hand reassuringly. Together they whisper the rhythm, and then Cassian begins to move. 

 

The waltz was awkward at first, jerky, but he eventually falls into step and finds a rhythm. Jyn had the peculiar feeling of floating, and did anything she could to look at him until she couldn’t. She couldn’t look at his neck, or his jaw; she couldn’t look at his lips or his hair or his nose. That left his eyes, then, and when she finally catches his gaze, he seems to notice they were avoiding each other too. 

 

Movement was easier now, and Jyn relaxed into the dance. She drops her gaze to his shoulder, admiring the cut of his suit, the way a few weeks of decent sleep and even better food had begun to fill out his figure. “You clean up well,” she almost whispers, a conversation just for them. “The suit looks nice—you should wear it—”

 

“I  _ am _ wearing it,” he grins as he interrupts, and Jyn wants to kill him and kiss him. 

 

“—That’s not what I meant—”

 

“Thank you for the compliment. I’d say you look beautiful, but that's nothing new.”

 

Jyn feels blood rushing to her face and chest and is stunned into silence. She wants to look away, duck her head and hide like she always does, but she is entranced by this man. 

 

His eyes drop to her parted lips. The blood roars in her ears. They slow down to a gradual stop. Is he leaning closer, or is she? She barely recognizes the scratch of her voice. “Cass… we should…”

 

“Wonderful!” Kay exclaims, beaming. Immediately, she drops her hands, tearing her gaze away so she wouldn't see his face, holding her breath so he wouldn't see the exertion it took. “Could you do it again?”

 

They dance again and again that night, but Jyn refuses to look at him again. 

 

A few hours later, the nightmare begins.

 

* * *

 

“Cassian? Are you in there?”

 

Jyn had, due to a bout of insomnia and a brief spell of insanity, decided to talk to Cassian about what had happened on the deck. She was going to break it to him gently, tell him that it was nothing, make up some lie about someone somewhere.  _ Anywhere. _

 

Well, that  _ had _ been the plan, but Cassian wasn’t answering.

 

A line above her brow creases in worry as the thunder rolled around them, echoing in the metal hull, and she sinks to one knee. She reaches to the back of her bun, pulling out the special pin she kept there, and gets to work on breaking the lock. After a few breathless moments, the door clicks and swings open.

 

The bed is empty.

 

“Cassian?” she asks incredulously, as if he would step out and answer. “CASS!” she screams, and the noise kicks her into focus. She runs down the hallway, checking every room, and as each reveals nothing, her stomach drops.

 

She heads to the deck. It’s dangerous to be outside right now, and her whole body is on high alert. Adrenaline is rushing through her system faster than her heart can pump her blood, and everything feels surreal. 

 

She just barely sees him at the end of the bow, on the railings, through the heavy sheets of rain. “CASS!” she screams again, bare feet slipping against the wet deck. Neither of them are dressed for this weather, and in a matter of seconds Jyn is soaked just as thoroughly. She is shivering, can feel the way her jaw shakes, but cannot seem to feel the cold that bites at her bare arms and legs. 

 

He is sleeping, she notices as she closes in. It doesn’t do anything to alleviate her fear; it increases it. Cassian is standing on the railing of a ship getting tossed around in the storm, he could die and drown at any moment, and he doesn’t have a clue.

 

She hooks two arms around him and digs her heels in, bracing against the edge of the ship, pulling Cassian off the railing and down on top of her. “Cassian? It’s me! Wake up!”

 

He struggles almost immediately, still locked in the dream, and before she knows what’s happening two hands close around her throat, crushing her windpipe. “Cassian! No! Pleeah… wa’e up...  _ Caaaah-ssssssss _ ...”

 

She is struggling, kicking and clawing and writhing, and white is creeping over her vision when it suddenly stops. She thinks his eyes are open… he’s got his arms around her now, pulling her up to his chest, cradling. Jyn hears her name and closes her eyes, taking a ragged breath that feels like searing heat against her throat. “Ok,” she manages to croak, trying to comfort him. “Nightmare… safe now…” 

 

She tastes the salt of tears against her face, and it’s the last thing she remembers.

 

* * *

 

They pull into the port of Royal City that morning. Jyn comes to on the ship, in her bunk, Cassian asleep on the floor next to her. “Wake up,” she tries to say, but her throat doesn’t work.

 

He wakes up anyway. He looks like shit. Immediately he is there, grabbing her hands to keep them away from the tender skin of her throat. One hand comes to rest at the base of her skull just behind her ear, and Jyn doesn’t know what to do with any of it. She tries again.

 

“You look like shit,” she says, ignoring the pain. It’s a hoarse whisper. He shakes his head and shushes her, beginning to speak. 

 

“ _ No _ ,” she says a little louder, wincing. “ _ You _ shut up. I’m going to talk now.”

 

Cassian’s mouth closes. For what is probably the first time in his life, he listens when she tells him to.

 

“You had a nightmare. A really… bad one. I don’t know if you have them often, but it is what it is. This is not… not your fault. You do not get to blame yourself. You hear me?”

 

His face had fallen, his gaze had dropped to her neck. She knows the bruises there were probably hideous. She leans forward, wrapping him into a hug. “It’s okay,” she says. “You’re alright. You’re safe. It was just a nightmare. I’ll be okay.”

 

He buries his face into her hair, her neck. She bites back a hiss of pain. “There were so many faces, Jyn… I can’t stop seeing them. So many faces,” he says quietly, and her heart breaks. 

 

* * *

 

Her bruises were _bad_ , green and red and yellow streaks painted across her neck. But the swelling in her throat had gone down, and she was easily disguised with a scarf.

 

Jyn wished she could make the haunted look in Cassian’s eyes disappear as easily. 

 

They arrived at the palace in formal attire: Cassian was in one of his suits, Kay had put on the sash and military jacket that signified his status in the court. Jyn was less regal, but the gown she wore was quite modern, with a high collar.

 

They were received by one of the Queen’s aides. Kay stepped forward in a bow. “May I present His Imperial Highness, the Grand Duke Jeron Cassian Andor?”

 

“Hmm,” she appraised him, and Jyn was starkly reminded of when she had first circled him in the old abandoned holiday palace. She swallowed the knot in her throat and held her breath. “He looks more like him than any we’ve seen before. I have some questions for you, sir, if you don’t mind?”

 

He doesn’t even look back at her for guidance anymore, and Jyn’s heart swells and hurts in the same moment. She walks around the perimeter of the room, catching Cassian’s eye when she can, trying to communicate how proud she is.

 

After what felt like hours of questions, things seem to be wrapping up. But the Queen’s aide isn’t quite finished. “Ah, Cassian, I have one more question for you,” she smiles sweetly, in a way that strikes fear into Jyn’s heart. She exchanges a look with Kay, and then turns. “This might be sensitive, but please, indulge me.” They hadn’t planned for this. 

 

“How did you escape the attack on the holiday palace?”

 

_ They hadn’t planned for this. _

 

Jyn’s eyes close briefly in mourning. This was where her plan skittered to a halt.

 

Cassian was quiet for a moment, and then: “There was a girl… a girl who worked in the palace. She opened a wall…? I’m sorry. That’s crazy,  _ walls opening _ …”

 

Jyn had already turned her back to the group to stare out the window, or they might have seen her tears.

 

* * *

 

She slips out to dry her eyes and make herself presentable. The two men bust out a few minutes later, laughing, happy, and Jyn plasters a pleased expression on her face. The aide follows right behind, then offers her arm to Cassian to show them the rooms they’ll be staying in until they can get word to the Queen. Jyn watches them go, and does not follow.

 

They have an early dinner on the shorefront, and Jyn watches Cassian dance with the court members who have come to circle and feed. Jyn didn’t know how many Cassians they had already met; if they believed this one or not. But  _ Cassian  _ believes it, and it was true; and she watches him get swept away in this new world, knowing there was no place for her here. She could not follow.

 

She raises a glass to him, inclining her head. “Look at our prince,” she says quietly to Kay, who is looking at her with an odd expression.  This was where he belonged, and soon she knew she would have to leave. 

 

“He is so  _ good  _ here, Jyn. I almost believe him.” 

 

She smiles sadly at her friend, and does not respond.

 

The Queen’s aide is standing at the doors of the palace when they arrive to prepare to meet the Queen. She sweeps Cassian off again as he is trying to speak to Jyn.

 

Jyn watches them go with a hand on Kay’s arm, preventing him from following immediately. “I’m going to go get ready,” she says carefully. “I need to speak with you when I’m done.” 

 

He nods, and that is that.

 

* * *

 

Jyn gets ready slowly, dreadfully. Her eyes are unfocused, distracted, but she dons her evening gown anyway. She has no titles, no ranks, but she does have wealth, no matter how illegally obtained; Queens respect wealth almost as much as they respect title. It was important for her and Kay to appear as if they gained nothing from this deal except a prince returned.

 

The black and gold McQueen feels cheap standing in the grand staircases of the royal palace, but she makes do. Jyn adjusts the collar for what feels like the hundredth time, examines it closely in the mirror to ensure it covers the fading bruises.

 

She arrives to see Kay pacing the bottom of the staircase nervously. Her voice is hollow. “Kay. We don’t have anything to be nervous about. He  _ is _ the prince.”

 

He makes a noise of impatient confusion. “I know that was the agreed-upon―”

 

“No! No, you  _ don’t _ know!” She is surprised at the pain and anger in her words. “ _ I was the girl in the palace! _ The one who opened the wall. It was  _ me _ and I used the servant’s tunnel I used to sleep in when the quarters weren’t safe anymore next to  _ the only boy who was ever nice to me _ ―”

 

The words died in her throat, strangled by emotion. Kay remained quiet beside her, unemotional as always. “He’s the real thing, Kay.”

 

“That means our orphan has found his family. We have found the heir to the Festian throne and you―”

 

“―Will disappear. Princes can’t marry criminals.” Esso bristled silently at the dead pan of her voice. “We’re going to go through with this. Nothing has changed.”

 

Kay is quiet for another moment. “You should tell him.”

 

“Tell me what?”

 

And then Cassian is there. Although she had seen him in these clothes before, it had all been pretend. They were real, here in the palace. Her eyes burn at how at home he looks here. How  _ right _ .

 

“The Queen is still in her meeting with a foreign dignitary,” she lies easily by telling the truth. “She has asked us to wait to be received, with apologies, within the hour.”

 

Cassian makes a frustrated noise and begins pacing where Kay had been earlier.

 

It makes Jyn smile. “Sit down,” she says, indicating a bench nearby. He does, and then promptly begins picking and biting at his nails.

 

Jyn has never seen Cassian this nervous before. Calm in her conviction, she walks over to him and covers his hand with hers, pulling it gently away from his mouth. Her hands were gloved but she could feel the heat of him through the thin silk. “Everything’s going to be fine,” she says, settling down in the seat next to him. She doesn’t let go of his hand, stroking the back with her thumb, fingers entwined. 

 

She wouldn’t let go, not as long as he needed her.

 

“It’s time,” Kay says a while later, and Cassian stands quickly. Jyn untangles her hand, and can no longer look at him.

 

She follows the aide to the doors of the Queen’s parlor. “Wait here,” she says to Cassian. “I’ll go in and properly introduce you.”

 

His hand shoots out, stopping her. “Jyn…”

 

Her heart stops. “Yes?”

 

“Look… we’ve been through a lot together. I just…”

 

Breathlessly, “ _ Yes _ ?”

 

He begins to say something, then his expression shutters. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

 

She clings to his hand. She can’t let go yet. “Cassian…”

 

“ _ Yes _ ?” He draws her closer.

 

“I… I’m… I just…”

 

She’s so close, she’s so―

 

She inhales sharply, and the pain in her throat causes her to cough. Cassian draws away again, eyes on her neck, and something in her dies. “I just wanted to tell you I’m happy you found your family.”

 

She turns before he can stop her again, and throws open the doors, striding slowly through the room. The doors swing shut behind her.

 

She puts her game face on. The con, now, becomes forgetting she ever loved him so that she could see him safely home.

 

“Please inform Her Majesty, that I have found her son, the Grand Duke Cassian.”

 

A woman’s voice rings out, lonesome and powerful. “I have seen enough Grand Duke Cassians to last a lifetime. I will not see any more pretenders. I would like to live out my days in peace.” 

 

This was unexpected.

 

Jyn tries again. “Your son is waiting outside, ready to see you.”

 

She finishes walking down the hallway, which opens into a sitting room. “I mean you no harm,” she says, a quick curtsy. “My name is Jyn, I used to work in the palace.”

 

“Jyn, you said?” The Queen’s eyes narrow. “You’re that con artist from the south. You were holding auditions to find a look-alike.” She stands, and Jyn is dwarfed. “You’re wanted in several states for forgery, identity theft, and murder. How much pain will you inflict on an old woman for money?”

 

The heartbreak in her eyes Jyn notices with an odd familiarity. She loses her temper. “Your Majesty, I know what I’ve done in the past, but this isn’t that. I promise you, your son is ten feet away, please just look at him, you’ll  _ see _ ―”

 

“Guards, remove this  _ criminal _ ,” the Queen says, and unseen arms grasp her, dragging her back to the doors.

 

They drop her in front of Cassian. He’s got his back to her, or he might have seen the Queen. The Queen might have seen him.

 

His voice was quiet. “You used me.”

 

How was she losing everything so fast? “No. No, no no. I mean, it started out that way, but Cassian… you’re  _ him _ .”

 

He laughs, and it’s cold. “How am I supposed to believe you? How am I supposed to believe  _ anything _ ?”

 

“You don’t have to trust me, or like me, or even  _ look  _ at me, Cassian. Just go in that room. Meet her. She’s your mother! I swear!”

 

He turns to look at her, and she swallows a sob. She would keep her pride, even if it didn’t matter anymore.

 

“Cassian―Cass―please.” She puts her hand on his cheek. “The girl and the wall…”

 

“Stop.” He pulls her hand from his face. “Stop lying. Stop using my feelings―”

 

“This isn’t about your feelings,” she says cruelly. “This is about the truth!”

 

“Right,” he says, tone clipped, eyes focusing beyond her. “It was never about feelings. The truth is you just wanted money.”

 

He leaves. Jyn feels the makeup streaming down her face as she watches him go. She turns around, and kicks open the door.

 

“What is the meaning of this?” The queen yells, and the guards by the door make for her. Jyn dispatches them both, slamming one against a candle fixture (he’s out cold) and taking the other down with a few specific nonlethal blows.

 

“I won’t leave you alone until you see him,” Jyn demands, knowing how awful she looks. “You have to talk to him. Just look at him! Please.”

 

She pulls out the postcard. “When I found him, he had this.” The Queen extends a hand, and Jyn relinquishes it. The older woman stares at it with longing and sorrow, and the final piece of her heart breaks as it confirms what she’s known. “I don’t want any reward, your Majesty,” she says. “I just want Cassian to be with his family.”

 

The Queen is quiet. “You'll stop at nothing, will you?” 

 

Jyn manages a grimace. “I'm  _ probably _ about as stubborn as  _ you _ are.”

 

* * *

 

She runs into him again weeks later, in the middle of preparation for the coronation that night. Jyn herself didn’t want to stay; she wanted to leave as soon as she could, but she was technically under royal arrest, and they were to stay in the palace on the Queen’s orders until the coronation concluded.

 

Jyn had nothing to do with it, and no desire to be involved. She stayed in her room mostly, venturing out only to keep her sanity. Cassian was leaving the royal tailor in his red and gold coronation suit and ceremonial circlet. They stop suddenly on the staircase. 

 

“Did you get your money?” he says, and she keeps her eyes trained on the ground. 

 

“I didn’t take the money, Cassian.”

 

The attendant behind him blusters. “You will not speak to the Prince like that,” the aide demands. “You will bow, and address him as ‘ _ Your Highness _ .’”

 

“Right, of course. My apologies, Your Highness,” she says, curtsying low. As she straightens, Jyn looks up at him. He suddenly asks, “Why did you change your mind?”

 

“It was more a change of heart,” she says matter-of-factly, and decorum be damned, she rushes away. 

 

* * *

 

Kay isn’t one for hugs, but he pulls her into a big one, medals jangling. “You’re making a mistake,” he says in his usual condescending way. 

 

Jyn smiles. “Trust me, Kay. This is the one thing I’m doing right.” 

 

She leaves the room, then, and heads to her apartments to gather her things. 

 

They aren’t there. Only a box with her name on it, and an invitation to the coronation from Her Majesty, The Queen.

 

She sighs, and there is nothing to do but get ready. She can do this. She doesn’t want to, but she can do this. 

 

The gown is an ungodly amount of red lace and gold filigree. He is waiting for her when she emerges.

 

Jyn isn’t surprised. Why would she be? Since they arrived, nothing has been easy. She straightens the red headpiece, checking her lipstick in the mirror. 

 

“Yes?” she says. 

 

“Are you ready?” he asks. His eyes are on the line of her neck, bare for the first time since the boat. The bruises are gone.

 

“Cassian…” Her eyes meet his in the mirror, and he is behind her, wrapping his arms around her, pressing his lips to her neck. She leans her head forward, resting it against the cool silver of the mirror. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “For everything.”

 

She turns in his arms, throwing her arms around his neck. “I love you,” she says simply, and there’s nothing to stop her from kissing him anymore.

 

* * *

 

“Yes,” she breathes, stunned, and he nods to the announcer, beaming.

 

“May I present His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Jeron Cassian Andor of Fest,” the voice booms across the ballroom to the hundreds of guests. “And his betrothed, the lady Jyn Erso.”

 

A gasp runs through the crowd, and Cassian is more nervous than she is as they descend the steps. She squeezes his hand, trying not to stare too hard at the ring he had slid onto her finger only moments earlier. 

 

“I never should have let them dance,” Kay sighs.

 


End file.
